


Star Wars: Defiant

by Captain_Kiri_Storm



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars: Lockdown - Joe Schreiber
Genre: Accidental Relationship, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Darth Maul is Lord Extra, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, For a Friend, Gen, Harm to Animals, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, If you don't like violence don't read this!, M/M, Maul: Lockdown, Nightmares, Non-Graphic Sexual Assualt, Not Canon Compliant, Not Rule of Two Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Phantom Menace, Sith Politics, Sith Shenanigans, Unconventional Families, learning how to feel, seriously, talk of breeding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2019-09-17 22:17:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16982808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Kiri_Storm/pseuds/Captain_Kiri_Storm
Summary: The first time he saw that damned Twi'lek, Maul knew he was in deep trouble. It wasn't that Maul found him distracting to the mission, per say, it's that he's completely tone deaf and does not know when to leave well enough alone. Maul has a mission to complete. That mission does NOT include getting familiar with the warden's pet, no matter how "helpful" he might be. Maul's mission is to arm the Bando Gora so they can do his Master's dirty work. He simply does not have time for Zero and his talk of freedom and defiance.Kheeli and Zero have a mission of their own: get out of Corg Hive Seven alive. Taking Maul with them might not be their top priority, but no one wants to watch another guy die. Kheeli might be a hardened killer and Zero might as well be named Sly, but there's enough of the light in them to help Maul out.If only they knew what they were getting into.





	1. Blood and Greed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SLWalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLWalker/gifts).



Maul roared as the dagger sliced through his shoulder.

He came up quickly with a blow of his own, running his nails down the Pantoran's face as he went for the ribs. The other man snarled. He twisted out of the way, ducked and feinted, before coming in for Maul's chest. The Zabrak ducked out of the way. He turned on his heels and let the Pantoran trip over the exposed metal bars in the corner. Maul fell in him in an instant, stabbing him square in the back and once again in the throat for good measure. Bright orange blood, hot and sticky, covered his hands and arms as he held the dying alien down. The male struggled. His brain didn't even realize he was dead yet as he reached for the dulled dagger. Maul caught his wrist and snapped it expertly. The alien jerked once before he lay still.

Maul got up, favoring his right shoulder. He prowled around the arranged cell, running his fingers over the dull grey metal. They left streaks of red and orange in the wake and doubtlessly would be there until someone else bled out. Maul wrinkled his nose, eyeing the grimy walls with distaste. The owners of this place must have never seen a power washer, let alone knew how to use one. Something rattle behind him, causing the Zabrak to jerk around. It wouldn't be the first time they sent another opponent - be it an alien or a wild animal - after he'd killed the first one. Maul waited, still. One of the guards had it in for him and it would be just like them to send in something even more dangerous than that Pantoran.

The man had fought well, and honorably, but he was no match for a weapon born through fire and baptized by blood. Maul watched, his eyes glittering, as the passageway opened again. There was something there, but he just couldn't see it. He almost called upon the Force, but his Master's orders had forbidden it. He would have to rely upon his other senses to see what was there. He thought he could hear something soft, like paws, and felt his hearts beat faster. Maul had fought worse enemies. He had killed a rancor when he was very young. His competition, a Nautolan, had been killed in the attempt. Maul had _almost_ been been sorry to see him die.

Something low and grey slipped into the cell. The light seemed to glint off it's fur like light glittered on a dull knife. Maul felt his breath catch. How could someone smuggle a razorbacked wolf from Naboo without being caught? The animal padded towards him, it's head low and ears back. Maul gripped his dagger again. The beast had fur like crystal, built to defend it from predators like grakkt or a narglatch. Maul would have to find the right angle before his dagger slipped through the fur and killed it. He didn't move, just let the predator creep around the cell. He could see its long fangs, hear the harsh panting from its breath. The animal didn't seem like it was interested in him, but that could change in an instant.

It lunged. Maul darted out of the way. He turned around to try and grab it, but the wold sank it's jaws into his leg. Maul bellowed in pain. He bashed his fist into it's muzzle. The animal released him, but lunged again. This time, Maul was faster. He spun around and kicked it's face. Something snapped and the wolf barked in pain. It shook it's head rapidly. Maul moved to stab it, only for the animal to lash out with razor sharp claws. They shredded his uniform like tissue paper and sent him sprawling back. Maul held out his hand and summoned the other dagger without thinking. He lunged at the wolf, throwing one and mentally cheering as it embedded itself in the animal's side.

The wolf spun around. Maul slashed at it with his remaining knife, driving it back to the shaft. The beast was wounded now, more dangerous. Blood seeped from it's wounds and covered the floor. Maul tried not to think of having to live in that as he lunged again. This time, the beast was ready. It crunched its jaws around his arm, snapping the bone in two and sending him reeling back. Maul forced himself up, blood flowing freely from his wound. The wolf snarled, getting ready to lunge again. The dagger moved in its side before dragging down from the sheer weight of the metal. The animal didn't seem bothered by the gaping hole in its side or by the way it was starting to stagger.

Maul blinked, trying to fight off the waves of pain and lightheadedness. As tired as he was, he was not going to submit to an animal. The creature snarled again. Maul backed up. He could see a way to win this, now. All he had to do was run the wolf until it just bled out. He lunged at the animal, almost skidding in a pool of blood. The wolf lunged at him again. Its movements were jerky and uncoordinated. Maul stopped on his heels and acted as if he was going to charge. The wolf actually jumped into the air. Maul caught it by the tail, cursing as its sharp fur shredded into his palms. He slung the animal through the air and into the metal wall with as much force as he could.

The wolf collapsed into a heap, never to move again.

Maul fell to his knees, cradling the broken arm to his chest. _Have to keep alert. Who knows what's coming next. Can't let them kill me._ It seemed like everything smelled like blood and death--from the stiffened Pantoran in the corner to the dead wolf on the floor. Maul gritted his teeth, prepared for anything. He didn't put it past Smight to bring in droids or just shoot him with a blaster. The Zabrak grabbed for one of the knives, trying to ignore the blinding pain all through his body. The wounds on his shoulder and leg had fibers trapped in him. Unless he was careful, that would cause an infection. Master would be _most_ displeased if Maul had to be recalled from action because he did something stupid.

A heavyset man entered the cell and curled his lip. He stepped over the dead bodies and tipped Maul's head up. His grey green eyes were cold and hard. The man looked like one would find him in some seedy Hutt bar, not managing a prison. Then again, he likely worked for Jabba. Maul was counting the days until he could rid himself of this man. He grabbed Maul up by the wounded shoulder. Maul forced himself not to cry out in pain. Smight was both taller and heavier than him, but Maul could easily see three ways to kill him. The best, and quickest, way to kill him would be to choke him with a uniform sleeve. The garment was already ruined as it was.

"Let's get moving." Smight clipped a pair of shock binders to Maul's wrist, before muzzling him and collaring him like he was a common cur. Maul didn't jerk his broken arm back from where it was wrenched behind his back. That would only make the injury worse. As it was, he hoped it was a clean fracture and they had bone knitter. Maul would be useless to Master if he came back with a broken arm. Smight forced the injured Zabrak to walk under his own power and even took the stairs rather than the lift. "It's good for you that you won me credits, cur. Otherwise, I would have put you down where you lay."

Maul was in too much pain to try and make Smight's life harder. Besides that, the muzzle made his jaw go numb. He would have been proud of himself for biting the other guard, but not after this happened. The Zabrak did not fight as he was marched into the medical ward and cuffed to the bed. The muzzle was removed and the cuffs unclipped, but he still had the collar. The cold metal cut into his collar bones and made him swallow some. Master hadn't collared him since he was very young. Maul held his broken arm awkwardly as he counted all the other patients. A large Nautolan male was getting stitches on a nasty gash to his torso. A male human lay dead on an operating table and a Cathar looked like he wasn't far from becoming Syrox food.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Maul jerked around, expecting to see another one of his tormentors. Instead, he saw a familiar Rutian Twi'lek, holding what looked like rot gut whiskey. Maul widened his golden eyes. How did Zero get that? It smelled like something one would use to clean engines, not drink! It smelled worse than that stars awful brew called _prejaa_ that he had to drink that one time on Naboo.

Zero sat, uninvited, beside him. "Drink up."

"I would rather not." Maul shoved the glass bottle back at him, not at all trusting the contents. He didn't relax, knowing full well that Zero could kill him with a blow to the head. At this point, he wasn't sure if he could kill the Twi'lek first. "Where did you find that? In the brake lining of a barge?"

"Close," Zero replied. "Kheeli, that big ole Nautolan, has been making it in the ceiling." Zero took a large swallow and made a face. "Though come to think of it, I have tasted spacer's tea--"

"Spacer's _what_?"

"Spacer's tea. You know, boiled hydraulic fluid mixed with engine cleaner and a shit ton of booze and then fermented for who knows how long to get most of the toxins out?" Zero explained. "Some pirates drink it. It's actually not that bad, but it'll give you one hell of a hangover in the morning, though. It's like persimmon wine, best in small doses. You don't drink the whole bottle in one go, you just take little sips here and there until the bottle's all gone."

Maul ground his teeth. "Is there a point to all this inane chatter? Or are you simply trying to do more damage?"

"Uh, lasers for brains? I'm not the one bleeding out on the bed sheets right now. That joy and honor belongs to _you_ , not _me_." Zero slid off the bed and jumped up. "Hey! Droid! Yeah, you! C'mhere! My friend Jagannath's gonna bleed out right now unless you get your rust bucket self over here right now!" Maul saw one of the guards start walking towards the Twi'lek, but Zero ducked away and blew kisses at the one with the scarred face. "Oh, and Jag... Kheeli bites! Just sayin!"

With that, the pain in the ass Twi'lek vanished around the corner. Maul lay his head back on the pillow, too tired to even protest as the droid came over to slip an IV in his veins. The Zabrak blinked his eyes after a few seconds, wondering why he felt so warm and sleepy. Well... he really couldn't find much of a pressing reason to stay awake... he looked like death warmed over, so Smight wouldn't be back... and wouldn't it just be nice to just _sleep_...?


	2. Gathering Intel

Maul wrinkled his nose as he scraped the bland gruel from the side of the steel bowl. The spoons the prisoners had been given were dull and rusty, perfect for stabbing another being and giving them tetanus. That was, if eating this bland brew didn't kill them first. Maul wished he could see the shipping container this thing had come in on. Meat meal he could live on. Meat by products he could _not_. He scratched at his horns, a common practice as he thought, and forced himself to clean up the food. He wouldn't get fed until mid-day tomorrow unless he was fighting. The red Zabrak watched the crowd, noting that slaves were fed plain gruel, prisoners like himself were given slightly more, along with a helping of over boiled vegetables, and the free fighters ate in their own room.

Going from the smell, they had much better food. Maul forced himself to clean both bowls and drink the tepid water. The stench of stale sweat clung in the air, making him wrinkle his nose even more. Of course, after his little stunt with the dish washing system (more because he was... _upset_? with the way Smight had touched him than the mission had needed it) all the bowls and utensils were cleaned by hand. That meant that there was a thin, soapy layer on top of the water glasses. Three of the weaker slaves had already collapsed from dysentery. Maul knew from listening that two of those three were already dead. Maul forced himself to drink, though. He wouldn't get water unless he drank this or he drank from the washroom faucet.

Someone sat beside him. Maul ignored the big alien, more interested in trying to figure which of the free fighters would work with Radique. The man likely wouldn't be interested in the slaves - most of them were weak and none a credit - and the prisoners would most likely be out as well. Unless it was those three blowhards that leered at him as he was stripped down. Maul had been many places and seen many things, but even he couldn't keep shame from burning his skin during that. It had been even worse when the female warden made him strip in front of her so she could "search" him. Maul shook his head some, trying not to claw at the wooden table. Doubtless that Smight would use that as an excuse to punish him _again_.

"Heard you don't like booze." The alien, a massive Nautolan, leaned back. He watched Maul with glittering dark eyes, as if memorizing all the places where Maul was weak. The Zabrak tried to ignore him. He also tried to ignore how sick the meal made him feel. If he had too, he could catch rats and eat them raw. He had done it growing up. He could do it again. Surely his Master wouldn't notice such a small tendril leaking through the Force.

"I don't drink things that smell like brake fluid," Maul replied. He crossed his arms some, not letting the Nautolan think he was weak. If he had too, Maul could see five ways to kill him right now. None of them would look like an accident, though, and Maul would find himself back in the punishment cells. That was no matter. He had survived worse than being doused in cold water or kept in darkness for two days straight. The Nautolan shook his head and steepled his dark green fingers. He looked handsome enough, Maul supposed. He had dark green skin that was marred from years of fighting. He was missing a lekk and had several spatters of light green scattered over his body. Maul wondered why Smight was harassing him, as plain as he was, and not this alien.

_Probably because he knows this Nautolan could break him in two and I will not._

"I see." The Nautolan shook his head. "The name's Kheeli'aryl Tsol, but most call me Kheeli." Kheeli shrugged some and glanced down at Maul's empty bowl. "You're the only one I know who cam stomach this stuff. What are you? Made of scrap iron?"

"Merely someone who is hungry and needs to eat," Maul said. He leaned back, trying not to appear interested as the Nautolan tossed more than half of his meal away. Maul gave the droid his own glass of water and dishes. He could feel the Force in one of the slaves and it was quite... pitiful? at that. The slave was hungry and he'd never had a full belly. Maul bit his lip to keep from saying something or  even alerting his Master. It wouldn't do to bring his own death, would it? He stood up, ignoring Kheeli's question, and walked towards the end of the corridor they were allowed to... use. They wouldn't fight until the next day or so. And besides, the wounds Maul had taken required healing. To properly do this, he would need to use the Force.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

Maul turned around, careful to keep himself from bristling. He glanced up, careful not to anger the man. Smight had killed one of the slaves and, from what Maul knew, nothing had happened to him. "I was walking, sir," he replied. "I thought I could stretch my legs before heading to the exercise room. After all, are we not given a few hours to go as we please?"

Smight glowered softly. He had a rough accent, Wild Space to Maul's Coruscanti one. If he got angry enough, Smight sounded like one of those old holos about inbred locals killing what they didn't understand. Maul understood that such holos were bunk, but the accent did match. Smight grabbed Maul's shoulder, pressing into the line of newly healed tissue. "But here's the problem," the man sneered, "my boss wants you out of the way for tonight's match. That means that I found you, let's say, trespassing? I think that'll work."

"There are cameras." _You fool_. Maul was going to _enjoy_ gutting this one, either with a dagger or with his lightsaber. His skin crawled whenever Smight touched him, far worse than it had when he was a kit and he'd encountered Zyggerian slavers. Maul tended not to kill unless he was forced too, as it would waste his energy, but he was willing to make an exception to the rule here. Smight might have an... accident with the Syrox. Maul crossed his arms some. He kept his face carefully neutral, chanting parts of the Sith Code and the Grey Jedi Code in his head to do so. He wasn't desperate enough to go with the Jedi Code. Yet. But he could make a change if Smight's hands decided to go any lower.

"Well... something happened and the cameras here shorted." Smight gave him a sickly grin and cuffed Maul before he could do much of anything. The human had him cuffed and walking in an instant. At least, this time, he wasn't collared and muzzled. Maul didn't know where they were going. He hadn't exactly been conscious going into the prison - he'd been gassed - and he didn't know where they were going. There was a pitiful hope that Smight was taking him to Radique and this could all be over, but Maul crushed it. The universe did not favor him in that way. He walked with the man and reminded himself that he was gathering information for his Master's mission.

No one ever said doing so would be pretty.

Smight marched him to a very formal looking office and knocked on the door. A very scantily dressed Zero opened it. He murmured something in an extremely demure fashion and lead both men to a small sitting area lit by a few lamps and nothing else. Maul could see how Smight followed Zero's every move and even how Zero hated what he was wearing. He seemed to prefer the jumpsuit he was wearing before, not that he could blame the Twi'lek. That collection of straps and scraps of fabric looked cold and awkward. Smight forced him to sit on the floor and even trained his blaster to the back of Maul's head. The Zabrak let himself take a few seconds to plot how this man was going to die.

"What do we have here?" Sadiki Blirr slowly asked as she walked in the dimly lit room. She seemed to be wearing a brightly colored gown and her dark hair had been swept up in some kind of elaborate braid. Still, her blue eyes were as cold as ice and Maul shivered as they scanned him.

"Found him wandering where he wasn't supposed to be," Smight smoothly said. He smirked some. "Thought you might have a better use for him that sticking his nose where it doesn't belong."

"Take him to the punishment cells for a few hours," Blirr decided. "I'll deal with him later."

Maul couldn't help the chill that settled in his gut as he was jerked up again. He was going to have fun killing her, too.


	3. Cold and Dark

The little room was perhaps three paces long by four paces wide. Maul was too tired to think of how much it large it would be if he did the math for how long and wide it was in meters. Maybe, if he was bored enough, he might try to do that. And besides, it wasn't as if Master hadn't locked him in smaller and darker rooms when he was a kit. Maul had been told that he was quite rowdy as a kit, never doing what his Master told him and even trying to do things like befriend the droids sent to train him. Maul would not admit this to his Master now, but he still felt the urge to name things. He knew Master would never approve of that and it was one reason why Maul knew he never be the Sith his Master wanted him to be.

He leaned against the wall, golden eyes closed as he mediated on the most recent dreams he had been having. That in and of itself was a bit unusual. Maul had long since trained his warrior's brain not to need dreams or something like that. All he needed was the dark sleep that came when one was truly getting rest. It was troublesome, though, to think that there was some part of his body he could not control. Maul knew that the reason he could control his body was the reason why he wasn't dead. None of his Master's other apprentices had even come close to the things he could master. The only one who could come close to the things he could do was a human boy. And humans just weren't as tough as Zabraks.

It didn't matter. The boy was long dead, as Maul had killed him during a duel.

Outside of his tiny cell, one of the great bear-dogs the guards bred prowled up and down the metal catwalk. The animals were massive. Maul estimated that the biggest one weighed well over four hundred fifty kilos. The creatures had a distinctive musk about them that was really starting to get on his nerves. Maul, though, figured there was little he could do about the bear-dogs. They hadn't bothered him yet and were unlikely to do so. The animals were actually quite cowardly. The largest had jumped back after he experimentally banged on his cell door. Maul rested back a little more and decided to use the Force to heal what hadn't been butchered by the things that passed as medics here.

The cold was starting to tax his body. Maul suppressed the urge to shiver as he held his hand over the long, thin knife gash. The skin around it started to heat up as bone and muscle began to regrow under his patience. Surely his Master would forgive this. _Surely_. Maul had not been given the luxury of painkillers after any of his fights, so the pain and repeated muscle strain were beginning to slow down his performance. Yes, that was how he would word it to Master. He was running the very real risk of permanent damage if he didn't take care of the problem. After he was done, Maul closed his golden eyes. He needed to get as much rest as he could. He was in no shape to find Radique if he was half dead, that was for sure.

When he was out of here, he needed to speak to the men with cloudy eyes or no eyes at all. That was very curious to him and Maul wondered why these men had been allowed to stay here. He knew from Zigoola and Genosis that pit fighters with injuries were often on the meatships before the crowds left the stands. And that was for lacerated ribs or a fractured pelvis! Maul wondered why those men hadn't been put out of their owner's misery yet. But then... If Radique _was_ making a nuclear weapon, something only the barbaric clans of the Far Rim would use, the last thing he needed was for the grunts to see all the parts and sound the alarm. Maul cursed under his breath. He was quite the fool for not seeing this earlier.

_If Master had seen you missing that clue, you would have been held up in chains for a week! Just because we are from his eyes does not mean we have an excuse to be lax!_

Maul shook his head. He was stuck in this cell for the next forty eight hours. Not even Smight could try to touch him here. There were too many cameras for him to try and break. Doubtlessly, there was someone here that would report everything back to Sadiki Blirr and then Smight would be finding himself on the meatship instead of Maul. The young Zabrak smirked at that. He hoped he could see such a thing happening. Maul had been on the receiving end of such advances before, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy them. He did his duty for his Master and anyone else the old Sith decided was worthy. Maul didn't know if it was an honor for them or not. He did, however, know that he was honored to serve his Master in every way.

And if he didn't, there were a thousand other street rats on Coruscant alone that would do the deed for less.

At some point, he must have dozed off. Perhaps his body simply needed more time to heal. Or his body was starting to rebel from the inadequate food he was receiving here. Maul touched the long, thin scar on his wrist, something he did when he was nervous and needed to center himself. It had been a gift from a hell pig when he was on Zigoola. Now, as he found himself fighting for his life once again, he was grateful to the animal. It had taught him how to fight larger predators than himself. When he was young and without his staff or the Force, he had been forced to learn how to kill with only his natural abilities. Maul squared his shoulders. He had faced down a hell pig as a child. He was not to be scared of the human or any of his friends.

Someone flipped on the light switch, causing Maul to curse and cover his eyes. A little warning would have been nice. However, he stood when they told him too and submitted his neck to their collar. He had done worse before. Maul almost groaned when the warmer air met his chilled skin. He regretted leaving his shirt in the old cell. Perhaps that was what was driving Smight mad. Maul had a perfectly toned body and he couldn't help but notice their eyes following him in the way that Master's did. It made him want to wrap his arms around his body, but he couldn't. His hands were still cuffed behind his back. Maul wondered where they were going and he did notice when they were going the wrong way.

A cold dread, a feeling he hadn't known for years, settled in his belly. He did not like this one bit. The walls became darker, the metal work stained with fetid water and rust. The floor beneath his boots became nothing but a metal grate that bent as he walked over it. Maul wanted to shy away, but he couldn't. He couldn't help the fear that came over his body as they turned the corner, nor could he help but flinch as the first fist rammed into his face. Maul jerked his head back, blinking. Before he could recover, there was a knee in his belly and he was on the ground, gasping for breath. Blows suddenly came from everywhere, all of his body, forcing him down as scarlet blood ran into his eyes and blinded him.

Maul never made a sound. Their fists felt like heated brands where they landed and the boots were even worse. One of his horns was knocked loose by a blow and he almost screamed. The sickening crack made them all stop, though, and for the Maul was grateful. A tiny part of him wondered why Master had sent him here. He didn't know what the older Sith was doing. Surely, him being beaten by men he could kill with a single glance wasn't part of the plan. Was it? Was this some sort of test to make sure he would do whatever his Master wanted, no matter what it cost him?

He could feel the heat of the machinery on his skin. Maul looked down and quickly turned his head away. The golden glow of the reactors filled the entire space below and now that his ears weren't ringing from kicks and blows, he could hear the steady grinding sound of gears. Maul's belly dropped to his boots when he realized that he was right over an entire system of gears and nothing but a rusted metal grate... In that moment, anger won out over everything. The guards were walking in front of him, saying things that he couldn't hear. The blood roared in his ears as Maul rolled over. He didn't have his hands free to direct the Force and the pain was making this hell, but he _focused_.

Four rivets cracked and that entire section of catwalk fell into the churning gears below. Maul himself was inches away from the chasm and he rolled over, using the Force to help himself up. He watched, impassive, as each of the four men who beat him were turned into a reddish pulp by the massive, unfeeling metal gears. If the cries of the blood bothered the slaves working the reactors, they gave no notice. Maul sank to his knees after that, his hearts beating rapidly. Everything, and he meant _everything_ , hurt. His head throbbed like it was being used as a Shistavanen war drum. Maul shook his head, but that made the pain of his head injury even worse.

"Master..." Maul looked up, his golden eyes wide with fear and pain. The blood spattering the room below him and the smell of death told all and sundry what he had done. "Master... please... _help me_..."

And then he slumped back down again as pounding boots filled the corridor. There was a harsh yell and Maul was bundled up again roughly, this time back to his cell. He didn't fight them at all, nor did he notice when his wounded, crooked horn was slapped by one of the crueler guards. It just made his head swim even more and he fell to his knees. It was all he could do to crawl to his sleeping corner and pray to his Master that nothing would be used to fight him. Right now, Maul knew that he didn't even have the strength to defend himself.


	4. Resting Time

Maul awoke to someone pressing a cool cloth on his head. He glanced around, trying to take in every detail of the scene. It looked like he was back in his old cell, complete with the blood and rust stains dripping down the walls. He wrinkled his nose, trying to keep from looking at the fetid pools of rust red water. If the light hit it just right, it had an oily sheen. When he was younger, he'd rolled in pools of water and oil, not really knowing that it might make him very ill. The streets of Coruscant had been his home as a child. He knew those broken streets and the places where sparks rained down over the canals and broken light posts. He knew the thick, fetid places where the factories churned out brutal fumes.

This place wasn't like that. It was cold and hard, isolated from the rest of the galaxy. Here, men fought with bloody bone and knives instead of blasters and grenades. None of the men here wanted to fight. They were made to - or they killed themselves to escape. Perhaps that had been what happened to Radique. Perhaps Radique had grown tired of living in this brutal place and simply took the easy way out. Or... no, it wasn't possible. Maul stroked over his hearts, quietly wondering if there was a way. Getting the bombs out of his hearts would be nearly impossible here, even if he used the Force. The things were resting in the larger of the eight chambers. Eventually, they would decay and be expelled with the rest of his body waste. But until then, he was stuck.

But what if Radique did it? Could he find a man who was a skilled enough surgeon, not just a backwaters farmer with a sharp knife? Maul shoo his head, noting that it didn't hurt as much. He glanced over, only to see a slender human male with dirty blonde hair. The man looked back at him and there was something unnerving about his sea green eyes. Maul could feel the Force coming from him, but he wasn't sure what this man was trying to do. Maul growled low, hoping the stereotype would be enough to scare this human off. It worked and the human turned his head. Maul rested back on the cold steel, wishing that he could just turn off the light. It was making his eyes water.

Sometime later, he was awoken by someone shaking him. Maul started awake and then looked around. He didn't say much of anything, just glanced over and saw Eogan Truax. The boy's father was dead. Maul felt for him in some odd way, but he wasn't going to push it. Eogan and sat beside the dirty man and both of them were playing Pazaac with what looked like hand drawn cards. Maul picked himself up, cursing at the pain. The adult male startled, his eyes staring right into Maul's. He hadn't said a word, nor had he made a soul. He had odd scars on his body, almost like he'd been burned, and he wasn't pulling at the collar like Maul did. Was he used to that thing?

"Hey, Mute!" Eogan poked his new friend. "It's your turn to go. And Maul... Zero said he'd have my hide if I let you get up, so..." Mute did something that caused a squawk of outrage from Eogan. "Hey! That's not fair!"

"Where did they get him from?" Maul drawled, easily going back into the persona he'd created. Jagannath was half Captain Moonlight on spice and half drunk Darth Sidious. Whatever it did to others, it was working. Maul pulled himself up as much as he could, looking over Mute. The man would be hard to defeat. He wasn't muscular. He was very lean, but he had a wiry strength to him that suggested he gave as good as he got. "How come they didn't send him to Nar Shaddah or something?"

Eogan shrugged. "His old owner sold him a few days ago. I think only the Mute knows what's going on there."

There was a flash of annoyance in those sea green eyes, but it was quickly pushed back down. Maul reached out with the Force, gently trying to see what was there. He wasn't going to force his way in, unlike his Master. Mute didn't have any shields. The man seemed to shrink in on himself as Maul gently probed whatever it was. He couldn't see much, just flashes of war, heat, fire, and molten iron, but that just sounded like a general war. No, there was something _there_. He dug deeper and ignored the pathetic whimper. The Mute's real name was Tamian. He was a prince, from a backwaters planet, and he had tried to play with the big dogs when in fact he was just a puppy.

Maul drew back and nodded. "Call him Tamian. That's his real name."

Tamian nodded and stood. The man was lanky and tall. He was so caked with dirt and grime that Maul couldn't quite tell what he was supposed to look like. Though if he had a good bath, Maul supposed he would fit in with the Coruscant elite, just like his Master did. Maul's eyes narrowed. Tamian was untrained. He was an adult. He wasn't even that powerful. Most of his connection had withered away from a lack of training and the brutal life he must have endured once he lost his crown. Maul snorted some. He'd met a few princes he would have liked to knock down. Tamian moved without a single sound and offered what turned out to be a bowl of broth.

Maul sipped it. Tamian held his hands over the worst of Maul's cuts. Before the Zabrak could jerk away, there was a soft glow and the tissue started growing back. Tamian drew back after a few minutes and nodded, before touching over Maul's and his own hearts. Maul understood it. The favor had been repaid in full. Tamian sat back down gracefully before tousling Eogan's unruly dark brown hair. The boy ducked and yelped, his dark eyes alight for the first time in ages. Maul shook his head. He tried to get as much of his meal down as he could, knowing that he would soon need the calories.

"Maul?" Eogan slipped over. "What happened to you? I wanted to ask before but the Mu - I mean, _Tamian_ , wouldn't let me. Maul, did they do something to him so he couldn't talk?"

"Don't use that name where others can hear," Maul warned. He sighed and allowed the boy to curl up beside him. If anything, it was warmer and Maul was tired of being cold. He missed his silk, too. "I... I don't know. He can't tell us and I don't want to speculate." Maul paused and closed his eyes. "Don't get attached. He won't last long."

Tamian glared daggers at him. Maul just shot him a rude gesture and tried to go to sleep.


End file.
